THE BOY FROM COUNTY DOWN
By Teresa Brayton

A boy with the dreams of a man was he, a lad from a lonesome place,
And he turned away from his family the width of the world to face;
Light of pocket and heavy of heart he started from Newry town
And his soul grew sick as he paused to part from the meadows of County Down.

He set his bundle beside the road and looked with a sob of pain
To the Mourne mountains and all abroad where never might come again;
Then plucking a primrose from the hedge, for Spring was green on the sod,
He fared away on his wanderings with his fate in the hands of God.

Oh, many a tear did his mother weep in Rosaries said for him
And his father’s sorrow looked wide and deep from eyes that were growing dim,
But the boy who parted from County Down was out in the world of men
Seeking the wealth in a far off town that should carry him home again.

Then when the hair on his head was white and the step of him faint and slow
Said he “‘tis back by the morning’s light to the land of my youth I’ll go,
“Though my parents both in the graveyard be and the noon of my life is set
“Sure County Down is the same,” said he, “and the mountains are standing yet.”

He journeyed back from the world of men and the soul of him leaped with joy
To see the Mourne mountains again and the fields where he roamed a boy.
But sure he had toiled to the doors of doom in many a far off town
And he died when the primrose buds were in bloom by the hedges of County Down.